


if you don't

by thimble



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He must've loved Matsuoka-senpai so incredibly hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you don't

_I'm in trouble_ , Nitori thought, the first time he saw Matsuoka-senpai sprawled on the bottom bunk of their shared bed. They had agreed on sleeping arrangements the day before, but if he'd known that he'd be faced with Matsuoka-senpai's reclining body every single time he entered the room, he might've fought harder for the—

"Nitori," Matsuoka-senpai said suddenly, tilting the rim of his snapback to show the glint of his eyes. "Close the door."

He had earphones on, the volume turned up loud enough for Nitori to hear muffled lyrics; he didn't realize Matsuoka-senpai could tell he was there. 

"S-sorry!" He did as told, cheeks warming. Just how long had he been standing there like an idiot...? He rushed into the room quickly and quietly, but by then Matsuoka-senpai had already gone back to ignoring him. He grabbed his diary from the desk and tried to climb the ladder to the top bunk as unobtrusively as he could, and in all the fuss, he only noticed his problem once he got there.

The problem that was currently sandwiched between the mattress and his right thigh, rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of his pajamas. He squeezed his eyes tightly; willing it to go away – _not with Matsuoka-senpai right there, please_ – but that only seemed to make it worse. Opening the diary and writing about said senpai didn't improve the situation either. Should he just...?

No. _No_. If Matsuoka-senpai found out, somehow, Nitori would never be able to live it down. He can't go to the bathroom because he just came from there; Matsuoka-senpai already thought he was strange enough as is. He sighed, resigned, and did what a short, sensitive boy like him had learned to become good at while growing up: he endured.

He was in very big trouble indeed.  


* * *

  
Matsuoka-senpai was a solitary person, but Nitori knew from memory that it hadn't always been that way. In elementary it was Nanase-san who stole everyone's attention when he was in the water, but outside of it Matsuoka-senpai was one of the friendliest competitors, charming everyone he met. He easily had the brightest smile Nitori had ever seen. He even used to try copying it in the mirror until his cheeks hurt. Nitori had an inkling that whatever changed him had something to do with Nanase-san, but he didn't dare ask about it yet, not while Matsuoka-senpai was still warming up to him.

They had most of their classes together, ate their lunches together, and trained together. Matsuoka-senpai's exercise routine was so rigorous that attempting to complete it all with him had Nitori's entire body aching the next day. He almost couldn't make it to class. Matsuoka-senpai had only eyed him warily and tossed him a tube of heat cream for his muscles, telling him to call the nurse in case it got too bad. He was considerate like that.

It didn't happen too often, but sometimes Nitori thought he could see hints of the old outgoing Matsuoka-senpai seeping through. He had a habit of watching others swim and instantly knowing how they could improve, issuing clipped but helpful remarks that, predictably, boosted the time of anyone who listened. Nitori had initially attributed it to the swimming school in Australia, but now it seemed more instinctual than anything. Even Mikoshiba-bucho agreed that Matsuoka-senpai would make a great leader if only he'd get that stick out of his ass.

Nitori had bitten into his tongue to avoid replying (and subsequently getting kicked off the team).  


* * *

  
It wasn't hard to pinpoint whenever Matsuoka-senpai had run into - or was merely thinking about - Nanase-san. First he got angry, for hours on end, before he dissolved into silence. Melancholy, even, if Nitori were to be impolite and assuming. He still didn't know what happened between them, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to anymore.

When he didn't find Matsuoka-senpai in the dressing room, and after seeing the Iwatobi team members shopping too, Nitori was certain of where he'd be. But... he also knew he wasn't wanted. 

His skin prickled at the thought. Still, he sat down and waited, swimsuit picks draped over his arm.

And waited.

By the time Matsuoka-senpai returned, the rest of the team had gone. His eyes widened momentarily when they met Nitori's.

"You're still here," he said in that bored tone, masking his surprise, though but not well. Nitori gave him his best smile, his prickly skin now accompanied by a weight in his stomach.

"It would've been rude to leave without you, senpai." He stood and held up the swimsuits. "Besides, you haven't picked out what you wanted yet."

Matsuoka-senpai stared at him evenly, but he was used to those now, so his own stare didn't waver.

"This one," Matsuoka-senpai said finally, his fingertips brushing Nitori's arm to touch his selection. Nitori nearly jerked it back at the spark that flew at their contact.

"Come on, I want to swim when we get back." Matsuoka-senpai walked ahead to the counter, completely oblivious to the fact that... Nitori swallowed to welcome his dry throat and tried not to be disappointed. Of course he was the only one who felt it.

"I'm coming, senpai."

* * *

 

"Nitori." 

He jolted at that, having been so immersed in his studies. When he looked up Matsuoka-senpai was blinking rapidly, as if he was about to apologize but decided against it at the last minute. He cleared his throat instead, holding out a pack of gum.

"Do you want one?"

"S-senpai?"

"I just asked if you want one or not!" He snapped, so overly defensive and lacking in malice that Nitori nearly laughed. "Whatever, go back to your..."

"I'd like one, if it's okay." Nitori smiled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "It might help me stay awake."

“Eh?” Matsuoka-senpai glanced over his shoulder, shooing away the hand covering the page. “You’re still having trouble with your English?”

Nitori bit his lip, embarrassed to admit it, but he can’t lie. Not to Matsuoka-senpai. He nodded.

“You were very helpful last time!” he added anxiously; the last thing he wanted was for Matsuoka-senpai to think their studying together was all for nothing. “The problem’s me.”

“No. English is confusing and hard.” Matsuoka-senpai pulled out a chair, sitting on it backwards. It was so effortlessly cool that Nitori felt a surge of overwhelming luck that Matsuoka-senpai was his roommate, was paying attention to him this way. Samezuka would have been doubly harder if it weren’t for him.

After reading over his notes, Matsuoka-senpai shook his head with an air of certainty. “It isn’t you, Nitori. For example, this grammar rule doesn’t apply in that instance.” He pointed to a sentence Nitori had highlighted in the book.

“Oh, oh, of course.” Nitori dutifully changed his answer, opening the stick of gum with one hand. If his mouth had something else to do, maybe it would stop grinning, because then he’d have to explain to Matsuoka-senpai just why he was so giddy about another impromptu tutoring session.

 

* * *

 

Matsuoka-senpai’s been acting weird and distracted all day, but Nitori wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that it would culminate in waking up with Matsuoka-senpai’s hand over his mouth, eyes imploring him to stay quiet. He could hear rain hitting the rooftops, could smell Matsuoka-senpai’s shampoo, and with this distance he could easily lean over and—

“Tell me if I should go back to my bed,” Matsuoka-senpai whispered, finishing Nitori’s own sentence with the action. Nitori’s breath stopped; Matsuoka-senpai’s mouth seemed to have sucked all the air out of his lungs.

Matsuoka-senpai pulled away quickly, _too_ quickly. “Ah, forget it,” he said, planting his feet on the floor to stand. Nitori grabbed his arm.

“Senpai.”

“Yeah?”

“You give up too easily,” Nitori said, with all the gall he could muster. He got up on his knees and pulled Matsuoka-senpai closer, being the one to kiss him this time. He’d go over this moment many times from now, tracing his lips with a finger. He’ll never stop being proud of it, but right in that instance _please kiss me back_ was the only thought in his mind.

Matsuoka-senpai did, gentler than Nitori assumed he was capable of, his palms cold when they cupped Nitori’s face. Nitori hadn’t imagined kissing him to be like this; he’d never imagined _anything_ , really, all those times he’d beat off to Matsuoka-senpai in the shower. Just flashes of muscle and heavy breaths, alternating between thinking of water and of sweat on his skin; they looked the same but would taste different, there was no doubt about it.

He’ll find out later. For now, he let Matsuoka-senpai lead the kiss, hoping he wouldn’t hear Nitori’s heart beating in the storm. They stayed like that for a while, with hushed sentences peppered in between. _Don’t worry, I locked the door_ and _sorry about my teeth_ , which made Nitori giggle, which then made Matsuoka-senpai smile, just the tiniest bit.

The normal thing would’ve been to have his heart swell in his chest, but his traitorous dick chose to get hard instead. Matsuoka-senpai noticed almost immediately, glancing down at Nitori’s blanket-covered lap.

Nitori wanted to _die_.

Just when he thought Matsuoka-senpai would jerk back, probably request a room transfer once they got back to Samezuka, he surprised Nitori again.

“Okay,” he let out, tugging Nitori’s hand to his own crotch. If Nitori blushed any harder he was sure his head would have exploded. 

"Well?" Matsuoka-senpai raised an eyebrow, which kick started his own reaction. He squeezed, experimentally, and Matsuoka-senpai hummed his assent. "That's better."

Then he ducked under the sheets with Nitori, and the next few minutes became another blur of clothes shuffling off, skin getting exposed. Nitori saw Matsuoka-senpai half-naked nearly every day at swim practice, but it was new, _so_ new, to be pressed against him like this, bodies kissing like their mouths were. He couldn't help but gasp when Matsuoka-senpai slipped both of their cocks through the slits in their boxers, when he gripped them in his hand. 

"You've done this before, Nitori." It wasn't a question. He never did follow through with doing it with Matsuoka-senpai in the bunk below his, but maybe he wasn't as discreet as he thought in the bathroom. 

"Y-yes." Even his ears were burning, damn it.

"So help out." 

Matsuoka-senpai let go of his own cock, holding only Nitori's instead. Was he inviting him to...? _Don't be stupid_. Of course he is. His palm was clammy when he touched Matsuoka-senpai – he had Matsuoka-senpai in his hand! – but he didn't seem to mind. He took Nitori's mouth in a kiss again as he began to stroke, inviting Nitori to do the same. 

_This was really happening._

He didn't last long, of course, but he made sure to finish off Matsuoka-senpai himself. Using his mouth might have been a little too impulsive, might have taken it a little too far, but it made Matsuoka-senpai groan loud enough to match the thunder outside. He took it as a victory.

Especially when they tugged their clothes back on and Nitori fully expected Matsuoka-senpai to return to his own bed, forget it ever happened; but he stayed. He laid on the left of the mattress and stretched out his arm so Nitori could use it as a pillow, hugged Nitori to his side as he drifted off. He even gave him a good-night kiss, knowing full well where Nitori's mouth had been, come and spit still drying on his cheek.

Nitori didn't sleep until it stopped raining, just to convince himself he wasn't dreaming.

 

* * *

 

He was glad he found out the next day, why Matsuoka-senpai acted the way he did. Really, he was; at least he didn't get a chance to delude himself about how Matsuoka-senpai felt towards him. 

He didn't get to be with Matsuoka-senpai until afternoon – he always got up early to run and they had free time in the morning, so everyone had wandered off on their own or in small groups. He saw what Matsuoka-senpai must have seen when he took a walk on the beachfront: the Iwatobi team swimming in the ocean, their advisor and Matsuoka-senpai's little sister sitting near two pitched tents. They'd been out here while the storm was raging. Matsuoka-senpai had woken up in the middle of the night, knowing that, probably feeling lonely, or guilty, or a cocktail of both. Did he wish he was with them? With Nanase-san?

Then it clicked.

He'd been so silly.

 

* * *

 

"We need to talk," Matsuoka-senpai began, and Nitori wondered if he should listen and make his skin prickle again, or interrupt, and risk upsetting Matsuoka-senpai. 

To his own surprise, he did the second, and put himself first.

"About last night, I..."

"I know." Nitori took a deep breath to fuel the smile he didn't exactly feel like giving. "I know you don't like me that way."

"You do?" Matsuoka-senpai blinked, and even now, Nitori was grateful for the chance to see him so unguarded. "I mean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"It wasn't your fault. I wanted to." Then he surprised himself again; what was it about Matsuoka-senpai that brought out such changes in him? "I still want to."

That only seemed to confuse Matsuoka-senpai even further. "Huh?" 

"If you need me, I'm here."

Matsuoka-senpai's voice was trembling, hesitant. "Nitori..."

"I don't want you to feel like you're alone, senpai. I want to keep you company." He meant it; his eyes stung and he was biting into his inner cheeks too harshly, but he meant it.

Matsuoka-senpai didn't say anything more, turning away and snapping his goggles. He didn't speak to Nitori all throughout practice, or during dinner; Nitori thought he might've scared him away for good. He'd scared himself too, displaying such open devotion.

But that night Matsuoka-senpai glanced at him from across the room and made space on one half of the bed. Enough for Nitori to fit in, snug and comfortable at his side.

He took the offer, and he could've sworn Matsuoka-senpai kissed him softer this time, if that were even possible.

 

* * *

 

Matsuoka-senpai wasn't quiet in bed, and he never said anyone's name. The longer their arrangement went on, the less he resembled the Matsuoka-senpai that drilled Nitori during practice, or the one that tutored him before a big exam. As if Nitori was sanding his corners with every kiss on his neck, every touch of his hip, he was all vulnerability whenever they shared the same sheets. 

Vaguely, Nitori mused if anyone else had ever seen him so soft. 

He had one guess.

 

* * *

 

They were fooling around in Matsuoka-senpai's bunk, as per usual, when Matsuoka-senpai reached under the mattress for the small bottle they used. Nitori had asked for his fingers, and Matsuoka-senpai refused to do anything until he was able to buy the lube. He's always so, so careful, thinking Nitori was doing him a favor when it was actually the other way around.

A slight deviation from the plan though. Matsuoka-senpai pressed the bottle into his hand, murmuring against his throat. 

"Do it to me."

Nitori froze. "Senpai?"

"You heard right." With that, Matsuoka-senpai rolled over on his back, arms folded behind his head, leaving Nitori between his knees and offering a view strikingly similar to when Nitori would hold his ankles during sit-ups.

Or worse, the sight Nitori was confronted with the first time he entered the room and those initial warning bells set off in his brain.

"But I don't know how... what if I...?"

"Just do whatever I've been doing. You know what feels good."

Nitori didn't dare respond and imply that Matsuoka-senpai was an ineffective teacher. He gulped, shifting his weight to his knees and, _shit_ , spread Matsuoka-senpai's thighs open.

"What are you doing?"

"I...!"

"You need to take off my pants first." Matsuoka-senpai lifted his hips as Nitori hooked his fingertips under the waistband, pulling the tracksuit off with agonizing slowness since Matsuoka-senpai was doing all he could – tensing his legs, wriggling unnecessarily – to stall its removal. Nitori's face heated up.

"You're doing it on purpose!"

"Am I?"

"You're evil, senpai." It was working, too; Nitori could've come then and there just looking at his bare legs. Undressing was usually a quick affair, clothes flying off and going right to the point. He wasn't used to such _shameless_ teasing.

Matsuoka-senpai let out a half-laugh, enjoying himself, though Nitori could sense a little anxiety underneath it. It's something new. But there was want written all over his face too, in his darkened eyes and the slack of his strong jaw. Nitori was hit with a sudden determination to make this something worthwhile.

Unforgettable, even.

 

* * *

 

"You did good. And with your endurance, you'd be great at something else entirely."

 

* * *

 

Matsuoka-senpai still didn't name names while he was being fucked, or even when he came. Nothing like the movies. That didn't mean Nitori can't read him, clear as a lake on a still day. The truth didn't matter as much as he thought it would.

 

* * *

 

Something was wrong, and he felt it the moment he stepped into their room. Matsuoka-senpai was sitting upright on his bed, not lying down and listening to music like he normally did. His gaze went straight to Nitori, like he'd been waiting for him. He had a small gray notebook in his hand.

Was that...?!

"I found your diary." Matsuoka-senpai didn't sound angry, or freaked out. Just... concerned. Nitori kept most of his entries clean, mentioning their exploits only in the most obscure terms, if any, in case a scenario _exactly_ like this happened. Still, it was probably alarming just the way it was, his admiration detailed in a stupid, _stupid_ notebook.

"I stopped reading when I realized what it was." Matsuoka-senpai offered it to him, but he kept his eyes on the floor, a sting behind them that threatened to spill and humiliate him further.

"The hell, Nitori, look at me."

It was a mistake to tilt his head up at that, because that's when the tears barreled in. "I'm sorry, senpai! Please forgive me!"

Matsuoka-senpai cursed under his breath, which was definitely a bad sign. "Calm down! I just want to ask you something. And sit down, will you."

Nitori took a seat on the study chair facing the bed, not quite ready to be beside Matsuoka-senpai just yet. His hands were fists in his lap and his bottom lip wouldn't stop wobbling; just one glance at him made Matsuoka-senpai sigh.

"Is that what you call me in all the entries?"

"I don't understand..."

"Even after we started doing it?"

"Yes?" 

Matsuoka-senpai exhaled, landing backwards on the bed with a soft thump. "I'm colder than I thought."

"Wait, senpai." Nitori shook his head furiously. "You're not cold at all.

"What should I call you?"

Matsuoka-senpai propped himself up on one elbow, considering it. "We know each other better now, right? Try my name."

Nitori paused, hoping he could make it come out right. "Rin...?" Oh, that was painful. How long would he have to keep this up?

Matsuo– _Rin_ , Rin only smirked, flashing sharp teeth. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Rin." Nitori grimaced, everything within him rebelling against it. "Rin."

"Ah, fuck. Just do it in your head. And in there." He – _Rin_ – pointed to the diary. "And here." He pointed to the bed, smirk a little dirtier now. Nitori couldn't help the laughter that erupted out of him as he joined him – Rin, all worries temporarily forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 It had to end sometime.

 

* * *

 

After Rin – the name was still foreign on his tongue, but he’d promised – told him about his father, Nitori suspected that things were about to come to a head, for better or for worse. He still didn’t fully understand it, but it meant a lot to Rin and that was enough. And the day he won his race, Nitori thought that that would end things permanently with Nanase-san.  
  
Then he told Rin about the Iwatobi club’s relay, and watching him watch them stirred a sort of heartsickness in him that he hadn’t felt for weeks. He knew what that expression on Rin’s face meant; Nitori wore it every day.  
  
It didn’t take long for Rin to seek them out. They’d been such a good team when they were kids, after all. That kind of chemistry was hard to throw away, even after years of separation and neglect. Whatever he had with Nitori didn’t have a chance.  
  
It wasn’t so bad though. None of their old routines changed much – they still studied, ate, and practiced together. Maybe he’d see less of Rin in their spare time because he was doing laps in another school's pool. Maybe he didn’t do a lot of listening to music and sulking anymore, opting instead to text or talk on the phone, more animatedly than he’d ever been in any conversation with Nitori. Maybe they didn’t kiss anymore, because he had someone else to do that with.  
  
But Rin began to call him by his first name, so he returned the favor.  
  
He did put up a fuss when Rin tried to make him drop the honorific, and earned a smile, fond and bright-eyed, for his trouble. If losing him was what it meant to make him smile like that again, Nitori thought it a fair trade.  
  


* * *

  
  
He passed English with flying colors around the time he beat his first school record. Rin gave him a list of swear words as a reward, definitely not the kind he'd be learning about in class.  
  
He watched Rin's mouth form around the profanities, still helplessly awestruck.

 

* * *

  
The next few years passed by in a blur. Rin graduated and left, and with one year to the Olympics and a plethora of awards under his belt. Nitori had helped him empty out his closet in their room. He’d stood at the doorway holding the box of Rin’s things and refusing to let go, on the verge of tears. Rin, as he’d come to expect, surprised him.  
  
He’d taken the box from Nitori with one arm, then pulled him close with the other, ducking his head. The hug was fierce and shaky, and Nitori was too stunned at the dampness soaking his hair to return it properly.  
  
“You’ll be fine, Aiichiro,” Rin had told him, even though he was the one crying. There were too many things to say, and not enough words, in English or in Japanese, to phrase them in a way that conveyed their full gravity.  
  
 _Thank you for being an incredible first love,_ he wanted to admit, but it wasn’t his place. He nodded and tried not to cry himself; he’d been brave for this long, a few more seconds wouldn’t matter. “Yes, senpai.” 


End file.
